That is Ben Brown aloft, and he is as good a lookout as
we have in the ship."
"Do you see her, sir?" demanded Ben Brown, looking over his shoulder to
put the question.
"Not a bit of her," cried Cuffe. "You must be dreaming, fellow. What
does she look like?"
"There, this small island shuts her in from the deck, sir. She is a
lugger; and looks as much like the one we burnt last night, sir, as one
of our catheads is like t'other."
"A lugger!" exclaimed Cuffe. "What, another of the blackguards! By Jove!
I'll go aloft and take a look for myself. It's ten to one that I see her
from the maintop."
In three minutes more, Captain Cuffe was in the top in question; having
passed through the lubber-hole, as every sensible man does, in a
frigate, more especially when she stands up for want of wind. That was
an age in which promotion was rapid, there being few gray-bearded
lieutenants, then, in the English marine; and even admirals were not
wanting who had not cut all their wisdom-teeth. Cuffe, consequently, was
still a young man; and it cost him no great effort to get up his ship's
ratlins in the manner named. Once in the top, he had all his eyes about
him. For quite a minute he stood motionless, gazing in the direction
that had been pointed out by Ben Brown. All this time Griffin stood on
the quarter-deck, looking quite as intently at his superior as the
latter gazed at the strange sail. Then Cuffe deigned to cast a glance
literally beneath him, in order to appease the curiosity which, he well
understood, it was so natural for the officer of the watch to feel.
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